


hit me with your best shot

by tvxq



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, obligatory we're on rival teams but we still dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 03:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6783514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvxq/pseuds/tvxq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>red card,</i> he thinks, dazed, <i>immediate removal from the playing field</i>. he can live with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hit me with your best shot

the bathrooms are meant to be neutral ground. big, long change rooms with shower stalls on one end and toilet blocks on the other. sinks in the middle. a couple of hand-driers. jonghyun’s used to looking at them as kind of intimidating, when he was a first year and he was rushed into the change rooms after practice, fresh faced and barely able to hold his own on the field.

now, they’re escape. as close as it gets, halfway through a game with literally _nowhere_ else to go.

kibum’s fingers push, demanding. allowing no refusal. they’re on half time, they shouldn’t even be in the bathrooms, but jonghyun will not let himself care this time, even as kibum forces him through the door. his head hits a wall, hard, and he manages a whine.

kibum just giggles. “sorry.” he huffs, amused, breathless. breathless and almost wheezy, covered in sweat. his jersey is too big for his skinny-boy frame, and jonghyun wants to slip his fingers underneath it and run his hands along kibum’s skin. he resists the urge, for now. maybe if they go too far, they won’t make it back to the field on time.

the strikers are one point up, and if jonghyun misses the second half, then they’ll be short their best mid field and no way in _hell_ is he letting kibum’s team win this time. they might be fucking on the side, but a game is a game and jonghyun’s pride is bigger then the han river.

“you’re so impatient.” he breathes through his nostrils, heaving a tourtured breath as he looks kibum up and down; not for the first time that night. it’s not that kibum is remarkably beautiful ( _he is_ ) but he moves like a dancer, when he’s on the field, it’s impossible for jonghyun to look away. he doesn’t look like he plays football. kibum is delicate and thin, light and pale and gorgeous and jonghyun holds him like he’s afraid he’ll break.

wispy brown hair, flawless skin, red and flushed. kibum scowls, hair matted to his forehead and his eyebrows furrowing. he nearly growls, and there’s strength in the way he pushes at jonghyun again, always _demanding, demanding, demanding_. jonghyun loves it.

“just kiss me, please, there’s like eight more _fucking_ minutes of half time and i am _not_ going out to that fucking field again to watch you run around with your _stupid_ fucking smirk and your _stupid_ fucking arms so please for the _love of god_ -“

this time, jonghyun does the pushing. kibum goes completely loose when jonghyun’s lips crash down against his, hungry and desperate. kibum’s right, there’s no way he’s going through another forty-five minutes of football without kissing. kibum’s hot and he keens into the kiss as they slide back along the tiles. they’re nearly at the sinks, but jonghyun’s not quite paying attention. they nearly trip over a duffle bag, and kibum yelps.

jonghyun’s arms reach out, clasp him close and suddenly their chests are flush, sticky jerseys swaying between them. the red and yellow of kibum’s top pressed against the blue and white of jonghyun’s. kibum’s eyes widen for the briefest second as they find their balance, and then he’s stretching back down in jonghyun’s arms, demanding, demanding, demanding.

jonghyun gives until he can’t give anything else; kissing kibum is almost as exhilarating as scoring a goal. it’s twice as addicting. football has always been jonghyun’s escape, but kibum’s his escape within his escape, all breathy and pliant and an arching back.

neither of them think about what would happen if a coach walked through the doors, neither of them even consider the repercussions of their relationship beyond the fact that jonghyun cannot keep his lips away from kibum’s warm skin. he doesn’t know what he’d choose if push came to pull but he doesn’t think about consequences because jonghyun doesn’t like to think that far ahead.

right now, he moves his lips away from kibum’s lips and shifts them lower and lower until he’s nibbling on his neck. kibum whines, fingers curling in jonghyun’s jersey as he juts his chin out on jonghyun’s shoulder and tenses, trying to keep them both standing against the damp wall. everything smells like too much deodorant in the change rooms, like sweat and the same distinct smell that follows around every mens restroom, but all jonghyun can breath is kibum, and the way the younger boy curves within his arms.

he’s kissing lazily now, leaving marks. kibum’s skin is just one shade away from white; so so light and so so delicate and so easy to bruise. a few moments later, and there’s red marks all down his neck. he pulls back for a moment, dazed and not quite conscious and the last thing on his mind is how the hell am i going to get back out there and kick a ball around without touching him.

kibum is breathless again, clammy hands seeking jonghyun’s biceps, grounding and sharp, he shifts on his feet and his boots scratch the concrete flooring. he flicks his hair away from his eyes, and jonghyun can only watch as his head tips back. the marks on his neck match the red flush of exhaustion, but he knows what will stay after he goes to sleep tonight, and it isn’t the blush.

“you gotta stop giving me hickeys,” he closes his eyes, and jonghyun wants to laugh. _as if_ , he thinks, _you’re mine_. kibum’s eyes are thick with mirth when they re-open, lidded and glossy and almost rolling back. “taemin keeps making fun of me. he says i get punched.”

that makes jonghyun laugh. it’s light and airy, he doesn’t like the sound of his own voice very much, or the sound of his own laugh, but kibum winds his arms away from jonghyun’s biceps and moves to settle his fingers in his wet hair instead, clinging to his neck and jonghyun forgets.

“but i like kissing you.” he supplies, grinning. kibum rolls his eyes, and jonghyun leans forward to nip at his skin again, harder. the sound kibum makes isn’t from pain. half indignation and half whine.

“jonghyun.” he drags the name out, “yellow card.” _strike one_. strikes are a baseball thing, but the message is just the same. jonghyun keeps nibbling on kibum’s neck all the same. the other boy’s fingers curl again, tugging at his hair. he doesn’t exactly want another yellow card, so jonghyun detaches himself from the hickey-ridden neck with a satisfied smirk.

“up-up-up,” kibum says, wanting. then jonghyun’s lips are on his and they’re kissing again. it’s easy like this; easy to forget they have another five minutes of heaven before they have to haul ass back to the grass. kissing kibum makes everything easier. he says something into the kiss, something that jonghyun doesn’t catch, something about penalty goals and unfair advantages. he’d laugh, if he wasn’t so caught up in the way kibum went from speaking to kissing, firm and insistent.

there’s no telling how far kibum wants to take this, how far they’re willing to go before too far is too far and they’re five seconds from straight up refusing to leave the bathroom. their teammates could be looking for them any second now, but jonghyun tosses the thought out the window and slips his hands underneath kibum’s jersey.

his hands are cold; kibum hisses as his fingers skate across his thin stomach, skin stretched taut across his chest. kibum’s lithe and lean, not as buff as anybody else jonghyun knows. he’s always been surrounded by athletes, but kibum is dainty. precious. he hisses again when jonghyun’s fingers find their place against his ribcage.

“fuck.” kibum says, sounding ridiculously debouched. “fuck fuck fuck.” he’s still whining and jonghyun would literally give anything up for this, the breathy little sounds kibum makes. and they’re only kissing. he curses everything right now because they don’t have enough time and he wants all the time in the world. he’s greedy and selfish and he wants more.

they move, kibum’s back against a shower stall. there’s a pair of shoes and an old uniform beside them on the bench, kibum’s arms are still around jonghyun’s neck but now there’s a leg between his thighs and he moans.

then suddenly there’s a crash and footsteps and jonghyun wants to fucking scream because it was literally just getting good whoevver the fuck wants to take a piss can fuck off and die. kibum seems to have other ideas.

his eyes blow wide at the noise, at the risk. he’s always been fairly smarter then jonghyun anyway, and suddenly he’s tugging at the other boy’s collar and shoving them both into an empty cubicle. the bang isn't inconspicuous at all.

when the footsteps get louder, kibum gets a little more jittery. almost scared. what if they’re found? what if they get caught? he seems to shrink, a little, and jonghyun squeezes his hand. it’s okay, he goes to say, when kibum sticks a finger to his lips harshly.

“ _where the fuck is he?_ ” jonghyun doesn’t know the voice, but kibum obviously does. the other boy goes tense in an instant. another voice, younger, less deep.

“ _key?! we’re on in like five coach is gonna kick your ass_!”

key. he wants to smirk at kibum in triumph because he hates the stupid tacky-ass nickname, but he really can’t because they better think fast or they’re gonna get caught and there’s no way this can end well.

jonghyun opens his mouth, then kibum’s eyes twinkle with an idea, and he shoves jonghyun, hard.

he goes loose, flying across the change rooms. kibum is strong. the thought is a huge turn on and that doesn’t help, at all. his back hits the wall opposite with a thump, and he turns to face both kibum’s teammates. they look on with muted disbelief, before key emerges from the cubicle, rubbing his neck like he’d been hit. nobody is stupid enough to mistake a love 3bite for a fucking punch wound, he wants to snigger, but then kibum’s teammate, the young-looking one with the blonde hair widens his eyes.

“he was punched! i fucking _told_ you! hyung did he hit you?”

kibum spits in jonghyun’s general direction. he’s breathless and loose - they both really do look like they’ve been in a brawl.

“yeah. but i hit back.”

“fuck you.” jonghyun yelps. kibum _did_ shove him. his teammates watch them interact with almost shocked intrigue. jonghyun would be too; kibum looks like the last person to get into a changing room brawl. but here they both are. it’s almost laughable, how easy it is to fall into a believable character.

“we better clear out,” kibum’s other teammate says, wary. the tall and languid left wing. dark hair and brooding eyes. “after-match brawls mean match suspension.”

“oh don’t worry.” kibum smirks, self assured, as he stretches his fingers and looks down at jonghyun sat on the floor, slumped against the wall kibum had pushed him too. “he won’t say anything.”

“hyung.” the blonde one says. he sounds nervous. “lets just get back.” he grabs at the arm of the dark-haired one, expecting kibum to follow. jonghyun holds kibum’s gaze before he gets up and leaves.

“yellow card.” kibum makes sure to say, still breathless. at least he has composure. “two yellow cards means one red card. immediate removal from the field.” he’s so mocking when he says it, like kibum knows exactly how hard it’s gonna be for the both them to get back on the field and play. at least kibum has a poker face.

jonghyun balls his hands into fists. _red card_ , he thinks, dazed. he rests his head back, trying to ground himself. the match is gonna start in another two minutes.

kibum turns his head; his teammates are gone. jonghyun has a red card, but he gets up as fast as he can manage, quickly winding one arm around kibum’s wrist to tug him backward. he can still see both of kibum’s teammates backs as they retreat into the distance. there’s so much on the line, but jonghyun needs the last word.

when he kisses kibum, finally, there’s no give. only take. kibum seems half startled by the kiss, but nothing is enough to take kibum’s composure away.

they should really, _really_ get moving but jonghyun can’t help it, kibum looks so stupidly smug with his too big jersey and his socks pulled off. he kisses the smug off of kibum’s face, replaces it with shock, and then not-so-subtly slaps his butt. it’s a common gesture, between teammates of course.

“fuck -,” the word dies on kibum’s lips, jonghyun kisses him again, one last time and slips away, slower this time.

“don’t lose.” he pants, right in kibum’s ear. despite the shaky exhale, there’s no sign that kibum’s even half swayed by jonghyun’s lips against his ear. they have to go, right now.

“i won’t.” kibum promises, and then he’s gone, jogging off to catch up with his two teammates, running a hand through his already perfect hair. jonghyun watches him go, until he hears the yell of his own team, his own coach ready to hang him for disappearing.

he grins, despite himself, as minho reaches him and demands to know just where he was. he catches kibum’s eye for a second, before they go back on. he looks just as red, and he’s patting down his sweat. socks rolled up. he tries not to smirk. then the ref blows his whistle and joonmyun slaps him on the back and they’re back in action.

but jonghyun knows, victory or defeat, between these two teams, they’ve both already won.

**Author's Note:**

> • lmao i wanted to write a long ass fic i still might this au is the shit i live for???  
> • jongkey. idk just jongkey. i watched a video of them dancin w eachother @ the l.a festival n jjong was so handsy n soft n i d i e d  
> • expect more of this?  
> • ilu


End file.
